


Punxsutawney Phil (and Dan)

by gay_stuff_ensues (orphan_account)



Category: Groundhog Day (1993), Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Groundhog Day (1993) Fusion, American AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Original Character(s), Weatherman!Phil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-08 20:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gay_stuff_ensues
Summary: Phil Lester is a weatherman for a local news station in Pennsylvania, and grumpy Dan Howell is assigned to work with him on covering a stretch assignment: Groundhog Day. Then Phil starts reliving the same day over and over, falling further in love with Dan every passing February 2nd...





	1. The Phorecast

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,  
> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback on my last fic! I appreciate it so much.  
> I've decided to try a chaptered fic, so I hope I can get this figured out, and that you all like it!  
> You don't have to have seen the 1993 Groundhog Day film to understand this fic, don't worry :)

“It’s going to be another chilly day in Western Pennsylvania, everyone. High of 33 in Pittsburgh, 32 in Somerset and Johnstown, and a record daily low of 26 in New Castle. Pretty clear most of today, but there should be some snow coming in from the east that’ll hit tomorrow just south of Punxsutawney. Speaking of which, I’ll be covering the annual Groundhog Day event for which the town is world famous in a couple days, so be sure to tune in for that.” he smiled at the camera.

“And I’m Phil Lester, reporting live for Channel 9 News.”

“And…we’re clear on the floor! Stand by for pre-news segment,” Director Francesca Alvarez shouted. The room relaxed. Phil stepped down off his green screen platform to sit on one of the couches in the back of the studio.

“Phillll, excited for your story? I hear it’s gonna be _ground_ -breaking this year,” Gil Hawley, the Channel 9 main news anchor, teased.

“Oh my god, Gil, shut up,” groaned Louise, as she adjusted Studio Cam 1.

The assignment had become a running joke with the rest of the news team. Phil was a licensed meteorologist, but Channel 9 had been stretched tight for a while now, and he picked up the odd story, in between his morning broadcasts and going out for a natural disaster here and there. But Groundhog Day was always Phil’s to cover. He didn’t mind. He liked the way the rodent wrinkled up its nose when it came out of hiding, wiggled its nose, and sniffed lightly. Phil liked the small town, he liked the nice people who were always excited for visitors. He liked getting out of the studio for something other than a dismal hurricane or tornado.

Punxsutawney was familiar, and Phil shared his name with its most famous resident. There weren’t a lot of weather “forecasters” out there named Phil, and a fat little rodent had him beat. But really, out of all the things that he could be associated with, Punxsutawney Phil was awfully cute.

Faint but tense words from another room broke Phil from his trance.

“Howell, I’m not giving you another option. If you don’t do this, I’m putting you on leave.”

Another argument among the company execs. They were not uncommon. Phil supposed the media _was_ a stressful field to work in, so conflict was pretty much inevitable. He tried to stay away from as much of the drama as possible.

The rippled glass door swung open violently. Dan Howell, Channel 9’s Assistant Producer, huffed as he passed by Phil and the various newscasters, journalists, and tech workers who stopped to watch him on his way out of the Company Executives’ office.

“Boy, I wonder what’s got him all bothered,” mused Louise, one of the camera techs, probably Phil’s closest friend in the studio.  

Not one to gossip, Phil shrugged.

“Be ready to leave by 10:30?” he suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Louise replied, “how’s the weather going to be there?”

“Were you not listening two minutes ago?” Phil giggled. “Cold and chance of snow.”

“Right, okay, I’ll bring my yucky weather equipment, just in case. And hey, I was focusing on getting the camera angle to stay on you, with all your unexpected gesticulating out of frame. I was certainly not paying attention to the content of _Phil’s Weather Phorecast_ ,” she defended good-naturedly.

Their banter was interrupted by the approach of none other than Dan Howell, significantly less flustered than they’d just seen him. Phil thought he saw a flicker of embarrassment cross his face, but it was quickly gone. He sat down.

“So. I’ve been assigned to work with you two, it seems. What are we covering? I don’t have much time, so fill me in quick.” Dan sat down on the couch.

Louise raised her eyebrows at Dan’s demand. Phil replied; “Uh, just Groundhog Day events and stuff. Like, the actual prediction, and then there’s a parade and stuff, too, so… we should have plenty to work with...” Phil’s voice came up a bit at the end, so it sounded like a question.

“Plenty to work—Jesus, Wiley’s _punishing_ me. I can’t believe I have to answer to those assholes.”

Louise narrowed her eyes at Dan’s comment.

“Well, why are they making you do this? What did you do, anyways?” she asked bluntly. Dan ignored her.

“Okay, um, we’re leaving at 10:30 if that’s all right with you.” Phil steered the conversation back into manageable territory.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Dan grumbled, standing up and walking back to his office, running a hand through his hair as he went.

As soon as Dan was out of earshot, Louise whistled lowly.

“This’ll be our most interesting Groundhog Day to cover yet, I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> That first chapter was so short it felt like a drabble, except I just thought it stood better on its own. But I have finals week coming up so I probably won't be able to upload as much as I'd like, though the next few chapters should be longer. My apologies, if anyone ends up liking it lol :)  
> So long, and goodnight.
> 
> -Lady Disdain


	2. Pre-Production

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> So it's almost finals week for me, and because the universe is cruel it coincides with when I need to get chapters up, because, of course, Groundhog Day is in a couple days. Which means that I'm going to post as much as I can, and this sort of apology will likely become a recurring theme in my A/N's. Whoops. This chapter's a little longer than the last one, but that's about all I can give you.

Several hours later, the three of them piled into the white news van. Dan muttered about the cramped backseat, but refused Phil when he offered to trade. Phil caught Louise rolling her eyes as she pulled the van out of the parking lot. 

Phil was still unsure what exactly Dan was supposed to do on this assignment, but if it was some sort of disciplinary action, as long as everything went through smoothly, it probably didn't matter. He had to admit, he  _ was _ curious why Dan had been demoted to working with himself and Louise. 

As they drove north, the thinnest layer of frost covered the ground. It sprinkled the trees alongside the highway in a delicate blur as they sped past. Phil figured they had until around two in the afternoon the next day until it started snowing, so the Groundhog Day celebrations should be near-finished. They’d film the ceremony live, stay for a little parade, maybe visit the groundhog’s burrow, then pack up and go home. 

 

The sky was mostly clear, and it was warm inside the van. But Phil knew that it had rained off and on for the past week, and freezing temperatures could mean dangerous roads. 

“Louise, if there’s ice on the road, you may want to slow down,” he suggested weakly. 

“You always say that. Every year, every Groundhog Day we drive out here and you worry. You know how long I’ve been working out of this van? I know it like the back of my hand.”

They made casual conversation while Dan was silent in the back. 

As they neared Punxsutawney, the quiet highway slipped into low houses and big backyards. They reached the main road and turned into the usual haunt. 

The North Woods Inn was a quaint little B&B, one of those with wood paneling everywhere that was staffed with people who remembered your name when they offered you coffee in the morning.

Phil and Louise strolled in and were greeted by the owner, Mr. Lancaster. His wife had always had a motherly fondness for Phil.

Dan had stopped to stare at the various wild game adorning the walls, looking at them in disgust. Phil had shrugged it off by the time his first visit to Punxsutawney was over. They did seem to look at you, though, and you definitely didn’t see much of that kind of thing in Pittsburgh. 

Phil’s room was across from Louise’s, and Dan was down the hall. 

Phil had a nice view down the tree lined main road to the town square and Gobbler’s Knob, where the Groundhog Day festivities would be held. He left the curtains open, letting sunlight filter through. The room was simple, calming in its quietness from the bustle downstairs and in the rest of the town. Which wasn’t much compared to the jarringly loud metropolis of the city of Pittsburgh, Phil supposed. 

 

The three of them went out to dinner that evening. The Tip Top Diner was a cozy establishment, with decorative china dishes on the yellow walls and the sounds of dishes clinking and easy chatter. Their waiter brought their food quickly, and the tension that had seemed to emanate from Dan all day slowly dissipated. 

“So you really do like covering this every year?” Dan shook his head, incredulous. “I mean, I haven’t actually experienced it yet, but it seems a little overdramatic to me.”

“That’s the point! Sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy something silly once in a while. And trust me, if you set out to just have fun with it, you’ll have a much better time, I promise,” Phil convinced. 

When they’d finished their food, Phil wanted to maintain this other, more open and friendly side of Dan that seemed only to exist inside the diner, so he ordered decaf coffee for the table. Louise blanched. 

“Are you kidding? It’s eight PM. I’m going to bed.” She stood up and dropped a tip on the table. The meal would be on their hotel bill. 

“I’ll see you all in the morning. Downstairs by eight?”

Phil nodded. 

“Sure,” Dan shrugged, pouring cream into his cup, and scooting his chair closer to Phil after Louise had left.

“So, Phil, I’ve been meaning to ask you, why exactly are you doing this? I mean, you seem—you seem kind of, like, a creative spirit. I don’t know. Why would you want to do this job? Is it good enough just be a local weatherman? Does it not get boring, rattling off the forecast every morning?”

Phil chewed on his cheek before answering. 

“Dan, I—I don’t know. Obviously, I find meteorology interesting, and you know… I mean, I guess I never thought I’d have the confidence to broadcast at all, but some… things... have made it easier.” 

Dan looked thoughtfully at Phil, raising his eyebrows to prompt Phil into going further. 

Phil ducked his head from Dan’s gaze, and replied slowly. 

“When I first joined Channel 9, I was an assistant to the Head Meteorologist. I helped interpreting the weather patterns, and wrote notes for his broadcasts and stuff. Eventually, he retired, and I started broadcasting while the execs worked to find a new one.” he paused, trying to gauge Dan’s reaction to Phil’s use of the company heads’ nickname. To Phil, it only highlighted their differences within the company, and he hesitated, unsure of why he was telling Dan this story at all. He  _ was  _ one of Phil’s bosses, after all. But Dan’s face was open, his gaze almost, well, warm. A complete 180 from his earlier demeanor. Phil shook himself, inhaled, and continued. 

“The first few ‘casts were rough. I got so nervous that I’d throw up in the bathroom afterwards. But then I started talking to Louise, and she was really encouraging. Wouldn’t let anyone put me down for my anxiety about the whole thing. She’d smile from behind the studio cameras, give me a thumbs up, and eventually, it just… got easier. I don’t know. I’m a lot more confident now, and it’s really great to be able to help in some situations. I guess not a lot of people can say that they find self-fulfillment from natural disasters, but it’s what I love doing.” 

Phil took a sip of his coffee while Dan seemed to think through his response. 

“I think… I really admire you for being able to do that.” Dan said carefully. Phil was confused. Why would someone who looked down on him from a glass-walled office admire him? 

“What do you mean? It’s not like  _ you  _ couldn’t do it easily.” Phil’s remark came out a bit sharper than he’d meant it. He murmured a quick “sorry.”

“No, no. Phil, you’re wrong. I couldn’t do it. Not like you.”

“Why not?”

“I just—I sit in my office all day and make important decisions, yada yada. But put me in front of a camera by myself live in front of thousands of people… I wouldn’t make it. So many people watching me, what would they think? What if I messed up, said something wrong? And that’s just in the studio. _You’re_ going out here and broadcasting with hundreds of people behind you, and thousands more watching from home. That’s too many to keep track of. I decide the workings of most of this company, but they don’t _know_ me. They just get what I decide for them, and accept it. Everyone watching, they decide what they want about you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. They can hate you, or they can like you, and if they like you, any mistake on your part can affect every opinion they have of you. Everyone thinks that the media is all high and mighty, but really, _we’re_ bound in servitude to _them._ Whatever viewers think, that’s what matters.” 

Dan sighed, leaning his head back on his chair and looking up to the ceiling. Phil watched him, processing what Dan had said. 

“Too much,” Phil summarized finally. “There’s too much that you can’t control.” 

Dan brought his chin back down and met Phil’s eyes again. 

“Yeah. Too much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that angst? Did that count as angst if it wasn't between the two main characters? I'm full of enough angst already without having to write about other people's angst. Angst, angst, angst. Awrf. So long, and goodnight.
> 
> -Lady Disdain


	3. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I've been MIA for so long, finals week has taken its toll on me, but not my writing hopefully. I should be posting chapters more frequently soon. I'm sorry if the chapter title sounds ominous, it's actually not too bad.

The little bell on the door jingled as they left the diner, out into the street, a layer of ice now covering the ground. The temperature seemed to have dropped at least fifteen degrees in the past two hours, and wind chill probably dropped another five.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Dan wheezed, hunching over to shield himself from the biting air. Phil shivered. 

“Maybe we should camp out for the night in the diner,” Phil joked, “or I should have brought my puffy blizzard coat. It’s still at the North Woods.”

Dan managed a huffy laugh.

“No, we can’t stay here. You’ve got to look rested and—and all good for your segment tomorrow. I won’t let you.” Dan’s tone was playful, despite the obvious strain from speaking in the cold. 

They made their way several blocks towards the inn before Phil slipped and fell forwards on one of the frequent ice patches. 

“Phil!” Dan exclaimed, crouching down and grabbing the back of Phil’s jacket. 

Phil groaned. He propped himself up on his elbow, still trying to determine if he was hurt. Dan seemed to be doing the same thing. Phil was mostly numb, though, so didn’t feel a whole lot. 

“Fucking hell, are you okay?” Dan asked worriedly. 

“Uhhh, yeah, I think.”

Dan shifted to carefully examine Phil’s exposed head and neck, inspecting for damage at his near-faceplant on the sidewalk.

“Are you actually okay, or are you just saying that—Oh! Hold on, Phil, you’re bleeding.” Dan yanked off his gloves and gingerly brushed Phil’s fringe out of the way.

Now Phil felt a searing pain in his forehead. A trickle of dark blood trailed down the side of his face. 

“Here, here, here,” Dan rushed to pull out several tissues from his jacket pocket and holding them to the corner of Phil’s forehead. 

“I’ve got it.” Phil put his own hand over the wound, and brushed Dan’s hands away. 

“Does your head hurt? Do you think you have a concussion? Oh my God, should I like, get help?” 

“I’ll be fine, Dan. Help me up?” 

Dan stood slowly, then grabbed Phil’s hand to haul him off the slippery pavement. The area was practically deserted, everyone likely getting rested up for the big event the next day. Big event for a small town, anyway. Phil held the tissues against his forehead. Other than that pain, he didn’t feel woozy as he would’ve if he’d really hurt his head, so it was probably just a flesh wound. He wouldn’t need stitches.

Phil held on to Dan’s arm as they made their way back, while Dan tried making awkward conversation. Maybe it was to keep Phil talking, making sure he was all right. Or maybe Dan was as curious as Phil to know more about the other man.  

“So, what do you, like, do outside of work?”

“Um, I play video games and stuff, I guess.” Phil was unprepared for such an open-ended question.

“Cool, me too. But don’t tell Wiley I said that,” Dan added quickly. 

“Yeah, no worries.”

They discussed their favorite games for several minutes before Phil, curious, asked; 

“So Dan, do you live with anyone?” 

“Nope. Just my dog.” 

Phil smiled. 

“What kind?”

“She’s a Shiba Inu, like the meme. She’s amazing, I love her so much. My family’s taking care of her while I’m gone.”

“What are they like?” Phil asked, then clarifying, “Your family.”

“Um, they’re all right,” Dan trailed off. Phil didn’t prompt him.

“And are you—are you seeing anyone?” Phil asked the question quickly, before he could chicken out.

“No.” Dan shook his head, wiping his runny nose in the cold. 

“But I had a boyfriend for almost a year when I joined Channel 9.”

If Dan was nervous about outing himself to Phil, he didn’t show it.

“Oh. Me too.”

 

They finally reached the inn, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind them in the wind. Mr. Lancaster waved and smiled at them. 

“It’s a chilly one out there, eh boys?” 

“Yeah, it is.” Phil shrugged off his coat. 

“Can I help you with anything, or will you just be going to bed?” 

Phil started to shake his head before Dan interrupted.

“Actually, he just hurt his head, could we get some old towels or a bandage or something to get him cleaned up?”

“Of course.” He disappeared into a closet in the hallway and returned with a clean washcloth and some gauze pads.

“Is that all you’ll be needing?”

“Yes, thank you,” Dan answered. 

Dan followed Phil into his room. As Phil went into the bathroom to inspect his forehead, Dan rummaged in the bathroom drawer to find a tiny tube of Neosporin and a few band-aids. 

Phil wet the washcloth in the sink and tried to dab at the wound, now encrusted with blood. Dan watched his face scrunched up in the mirror, small ‘ow’s punctuating his attempts. 

“Do you want me to help?”

Phil stopped and looked at Dan in the mirror. 

“Ye—yeah, thanks. I think I just need to get it over with.” 

Dan motioned for Phil to sit on the countertop, and moved to stand between Phil’s legs. 

Phil ducked his head to give Dan better access to his forehead, and swallowed, hoping Dan wouldn’t notice. Phil thought he’d never be comfortable being this close to and friendly with the man who, up until a couple of hours ago, didn’t seem to even want to be around him or Louise. Maybe it had to do with being out of the city. Pittsburgh was stressful, and maybe a small-town visit was just what Dan had needed. But if he hadn’t been by Dan’s side for the past few hours, Phil might’ve guessed that his lowered inhibitions meant that he had been intoxicated.

Dan quickly wiped several times before Phil hissed and tensed. 

“Sorry, it’s okay, I’m almost done.”   

Dan gave Phil a break to rinse out the cloth. Traces of red swirled in the sink. 

“Ready?”

Phil nodded.

A minute later, Dan was uncapping the Neosporin and squeezing a dot of the clear gel onto his fingertip. 

“Don’t want it to get infected,” Dan reassured. 

He daubed at Phil’s forehead. Phil noticed that Dan seemed to be avoiding Phil’s eyes. 

Phil, wanting to do something useful instead of awkwardly not-staring at Dan, felt for the band-aids on the counter and peeled off their wrappers.

When Dan decided that Phil was done, Phil insisted on hopping down from the counter and putting the band-aids on by himself in the mirror. 

Dan watched him in the mirror.

“Phil, you’re skin is too pale, you’re so much whiter than this band-aid that it’s super visible.”

Phil giggled. Dan leaned forward on the counter to match Phil’s position and turned his head to look straight at Phil’s profile.

“I mean it, Phil!” Dan shook his head, indignant. “You can’t go on TV looking like that.”

“I guess I’ll just have to leave it in a fringe for my segment, then. I used to do that all the time.”

“ _ Phil,”  _ Dan admonished, scooting towards Phil so that he was almost right up against him on the counter as he whispered in his ear; “Did you go through a teenage emo phase, too?”

Phil’s shoulders and chest shook as he chuckled and shook his head. If he was being honest, Phil enjoyed this version of Dan much better. 

“Maybe.”

“We have so much in common already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, HAPPY GROUNDHOG DAY! I thought I would have more chapters up by now, but that didn't happen, obviously. Let me know what you guys thought! 
> 
> -Lady Disdain


End file.
